


don't take that sinner from me

by frosty_grass



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Canon Era, M/M, Uther is a dick, but merlin isnt arthurs servant, merlin gets caught stealing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29606907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frosty_grass/pseuds/frosty_grass
Summary: Oneshot inspired by the song 'Devil's Backbone' by The Civil Wars (if you don't know this song, you should)
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	don't take that sinner from me

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda a half-baked idea that I got really inspired to write when listening to the above song (title comes from the lyrics), but can't figure out a decent way to end it. I think it has some potential for a full fic but I don't have the time to write that alongside all my other WIPs so if anyone wants to take this idea and run with it, please do (just remember to give credit where needed!)

Prince Arthur had been seeing someone. Nobody knew, except perhaps Guinevere, who had helped him sneak past the guards at night, never asking where he was going, but always with a knowing look in her eye.

The boy in question was something of a mystery to Arthur, despite there being not a single inch of skin left on either of their bodies that the other hadn’t explored. It was something in the way he looked at the stars, when Arthur lay next to him in the grass on a moonlit night. Or maybe it was his uncanny knack of sneaking up on Arthur when they met, silent in the dead of night. Nobody else could sneak up on Arthur like Merlin could.

_Merlin._ That was his name. Merlin, who could have been some kind of Fae Prince for all Arthur knew. He had an ethereal quality about him, something inhuman and mystical. Equal parts slender-limbed grace and quiet, rugged menace, Arthur had been hooked on Merlin from their first meeting.

Long nights walking through the forest together, kissing roughly against trees, running and fucking and laughing ‘til the sun came up left Arthur tired, slower with a sword, quicker to snap at his men. Dark shadows blossomed under his eyes during council meetings. If anyone noticed them, or indeed the pretty array of bruises adorning his collarbones, they didn’t say anything.

But Arthur didn’t mind the fatigue. It was worth it, he thought, to run away to his lover, to a world of inky-blue skies and silvery trees, where responsibilities didn’t exist and Arthur could simply enjoy the feeling of being alive.

That was it – he felt _alive_ with Merlin, like the boy he still was at heart, even if he had recently come of age and become Crown Prince. All the wild fantasies he’d held as a boy, of running free and happy, without the company of guards or the stern gaze of his father – they all came true with Merlin. Merlin represented freedom, he represented liberty, he represented _spirit._ Arthur could see it all in his eyes, the promise of mystery and joy and adventure.

But now Arthur found himself utterly baffled by those striking blue eyes. Because they were looking up at him, or rather, _glaring_ , from beneath a defiant, angry brow. The court had been convened, and the great wooden doors of the throne room had opened, and between two guards had been _Merlin_ , and now he knelt on the floor in front of the King, silent and stoic and possibly, Arthur thought, a little scared.

Quietly arranging his features into something a little less shocked, reining in whatever recognition was showing on his face, Arthur drew himself up to his full height as he came to stand beside his father.

“What is the meaning of this?” Uther’s voice rang around the room, seething with power even though he’d barely raised his voice above a growl.

Sir Leon was the first to step forward and offer an explanation. “We caught him stealing grain, sire. Already on his person were a number of other items we believe to be stolen from the castle’s foodstores.”

“Show me these items.”

Another knight came forward with a brown sack and emptied it between Uther and Merlin. Grain, bread, a chicken. Apples rolled in all directions across the flagstones and one came to rest at Arthur’s feet. It seemed almost to mock him as he stared down at it, throat closing with a heady mix of emotions he couldn’t name.

“Would the prisoner care to explain what he was doing in our foodstores?”

Merlin remained silent, eyes brewing a storm behind them, until one of the guards kicked him and he finally spoke. “I live with my mother and my elderly uncle in a tiny hut in the lower town. My mother is ill, she cannot work, my uncle is too old. I cannot afford to feed three mouths on a single wage.”

This was the greatest insight Arthur had ever had into Merlin’s personal life. They had left their real lives out of it until now, unwilling to discuss the shackles of daytime when nights spent together were so soft, like a fairytale. He had no idea the free spirit he crept out to at night led a life of such hunger and desperation. Any anger and betrayal Arthur had been feeling quickly melted away as he realised that Merlin’s skinny frame was not simply a physical quirk that had attracted Arthur to him in the first place - it was a symptom of the poverty that Merlin lived with every day…under his father’s rule, no less.

“You are aware that stealing is wrong, boy?”

“I do not consider it a crime to feed my family.”

Arthur’s heart squeezed. His father was an intimidating man, Arthur knew that better than most, and Merlin showed no fear in standing up to him.

“I sentence you to a sennight in the castle dungeons.” Uther flicked a hand to dismiss the Merlin and his guards, but Arthur cringed inside as Merlin opened his mouth to speak.

“My mother and uncle will die if I am imprisoned for that long. You would sentence them to death for a crime they did not commit?”

“Take him away.”

“The late Queen Igraine would be ashamed of what you’ve become!”

Arthur froze on the spot, dread washing over him as he awaited his father’s rage. Even when it wasn’t directed at him, it filled his veins with ice and made him feel like a guilty child again.

Uther’s face flushed with anger. He slowly turned, facing Merlin again, staring down at him with the stone-cold fury of a man deeply scorned. When he spoke, his voice was low, and slow, and full of poison.

“How _dare_ you speak the name of my wife in such a manner.”

Sometimes, when they were alone together, Arthur sensed in Merlin a quiet, simmering determination – a hardness and a power that seemed almost unsuited to a boy of such fine, lithe stature. But now he could feel it, almost like a wave of heat in the air, and Arthur could have sworn that when Merlin spoke, the floor shook a little, as though the Great Dragon that slept beneath the castle was awakening.

“Uther Pendragon, you are ruled by greed. You are a tyrant, and a bully. How dare you take the people’s food as your own!”

Uther was shouting now, enraged. “Take him to the dungeons! I extend your sentence to a fortnight! No food shall be provided for you. Perhaps then you will learn the true meaning of hunger.”

“You have never known hunger in your life, you arrogant –“

“One more word from you, boy, and you will not live to see sunset tomorrow.”

Merlin stayed quiet then, mouth set in a hard line as the guards marched him away, and out of Arthur’s sight.

It was a long time before Uther spoke. “That boy was a perfect example of why you must rule with an iron fist, Arthur. You cannot allow vermin like that to infiltrate your kingdom.”

Arthur gathered his wits, scattered to all corners of the five kingdoms. When he spoke, it was not with nearly enough conviction, but it was all he could muster. “Father, he…he was trying to feed his family…surely that –“

“Do not make excuses for the boy, else you shall join him in the dungeons.” With that, Uther turned and strode away, cloak flowing behind him, stirring the tension in the air like dust motes in the sunlight.

***

“I’m sorry. This isn’t fair.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Arthur.”

Despite Merlin’s words, spoken from the other side of the bars of a dungeon cell, Arthur felt all kinds of rotten. He felt guilty that he’d never once asked Merlin about his living situation. He felt deeply ashamed that his kingdom hadn’t provided Merlin with enough food to feed his family. He felt sorry that Merlin had been caught, that he’d ended up in the dungeons at all.

Arthur shifted, uncomfortable sitting on the cold stone floor, iron bars digging into his shoulder as he watched his calloused fingertips gently intertwining with Merlin’s own. He’d snuck down here as soon as he could, with bread and meat from his own dinner plate, watched with a kind of morbid fascination as Merlin had scarfed it down like a hungry wolf. The atmosphere had turned awkward then, neither of them too sure how to broach the topic looming between them.

But then Arthur had apologised, and now here they were, falling easily back onto the same page.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Make sure my mother and Gaius get food. Please, Arthur, I'm all they've got.”

Arthur nodded, wondering just how he was going to sneak food from the castle to the lower town every day – but the answer struck him immediately. _Guinevere._ Already party to his secret comings and goings, surely he could stretch her generosity a little – if he saved the food from his meals, he could easily sneak it to her for her to smuggle down to Merlin’s family.

“I won’t let them go hungry, Merlin, I promise.”

“If you could convince your father to lower the taxes on his people, that would be great too. And whilst you’re at it, remind him that the harvest is meant to feed the people, not sit in his grain stores waiting for a siege that probably won’t happen.”

Merlin’s obtuse tone told Arthur he was only semi-serious – clearly acutely aware of how difficult it would be to change Uther’s mind on…well…anything, really.

“Merlin…”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“What does this mean, for…you know…”

“Us?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t say I’ve really stopped to think about it yet. Been a little preoccupied.”

Arthur instantly felt guilty again for opening his insensitive mouth, but when he caught the glint in Merlin’s eye he realised he was joking. His dark sense of humour caught Arthur off-guard more times than he’d care to admit.

“It makes no difference to us, Arthur. Except we can’t fuck through these bars, so I guess we’ll have to find something else to do for a while.”

Arthur ignored Merlin's attempt at lightheartedness. “You don’t resent me?”

“Why would I resent you?”

“I’m the King’s son. My own father landed you in here.”

“You’re not him, Arthur.”

“He wants me to be.”

“ _You. Are. Not. Him._ ”

Merlin’s eyes burned into Arthur’s, and it made his skin crawl in all sorts of ways. But mostly, Arthur just felt relieved. As much as he admired his father’s strength, his worst fear was becoming the bitter, twisted man his father had always been beneath it all. To know that Merlin saw him in a different light made his chest swell with quiet pride.

“When I am King, things will be different, Merlin. I promise.”

“I know.”

A comfortable silence descended on them then, their only communication the slow brushing of fingertips through the bars.


End file.
